


Coming to the Grail King

by RHoldhous



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, F/M, Open Story (see note), POV Second Person, Smut, f/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 02:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12379326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RHoldhous/pseuds/RHoldhous
Summary: AU. Artoria the King has come to You, the Grail King, to seek the blessings of the Grail. But nothing is free in Your court. "Open Story"--see note





	Coming to the Grail King

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This story is a work of fiction. It has many content of adult nature. If you do not want to read such content, please close your browser window or press the convenient back button.

She stands before You, proud and regal despite her short stature; clad in royal blue and silver armor, hair golden as the sun. There is an almost boyish look about her, masking her features enough to seem androgynous, and yet You can clearly see the softness of her lips; can trace her slender frame underneath that rigid shell. She is undoubtedly a woman. And besides, she has already proclaimed the truth of herself to You, for the sake of acquiring your boon.

"I ask of you again," she says, addressing Your Throne with the care and humility as of a sycophant daring to beg a boon of one's superior. "Will you not grant me the Grail, Your Majesty?"

Your voice booms out from your cragged helmet, masking Your face in its inky blackness. "No." It is short, succinct, and You relish the crestfallen look on her face, for it is the third time she has asked this boon, and this is the third time You have refused her.

"Why?" she demands hotly, her face twisted in frustration. "What else have I to do? What else do I have to give?" You make a dismissive gesture, Your attention already turned to other things. She is fierce when she wants to be, and You can feel her anger radiating from her in waves. She is a strong being, and were You not the Grail King himself, the possessor of a great power beyond all imagination, You would have feared to go against her.

And thus she can do naught but grit her teeth, defying Your dismissal and yet unable to do anything else but stand there. She waits in silence, hoping against hope that You may yet change Your mind.

In the end, all she can do is leave, taking her anger and her bitterness with her.

()()()()()

Outside the Grail King's chambers, King Artoria stands, her face resolute despite the many obstacles she has endured. She had traveled long and sacrificed much to be here. To stand in front of the Grail King, the one entity who held the Mystery that can grant any wish.

In her first audience, she was rebuffed by a thoroughly unimpressed King, who did not even seem to listen to her practiced, impassioned speech about the Grail. She endured a trial of combat against fearsome creatures in the depths of the castle, thinking to impress the King. But on the second audience the King was yet again unresponsive, and thus she ventured into the faerie lands to retrieve an object which she thought would amuse the King. And now, though that gift had been received, the King was not moved, would not budge, would not even deign to discuss the matter of the Grail.

"So you failed," comes a voice from her left.

"We told you it would," comes another voice, giggling, from the right. Artoria sees the King's harlots saunter into view, two vile-seeming women with attitudes entirely too forward than was proper; who'd teased and taunted her from the moment of her arrival.

They were shameless in their every actions, making even Artoria, who had surrendered all pretensions of womanhood and should be oblivious to such wiles, uncomfortable. It sickens her, to see them flaunt their superiority, their self-proclaimed influence over the Grail King, and their unwanted, foolish advice.

They are both dressed in scandalously revealing clothing of silk and gold, their bosoms and groins covered by bare, almost transparent lavender veils. Their jeweled collars glisten in the light, and their anklets jingle with every step they take. Their skin is pale, slightly tanned, like a northman campaigning in the lands of the Romans. One had brunette hair, almost unkempt, her smile cold and arrogant; the other had hair of bizarre purple, straight and long, her expression placid but supremely fickle. They had been introduced to her from the start as a "Rin" and "Sakura", sisters, both apparently the heralds of the Grail King, and had stood flanking the throne on her first meeting.

"Leave me be," she says darkly. "I have no time for your nonsense."

Sakura's lascivious face draws near, too near, and she catches a whiff of the pungent man-juice that has soaked into her breath, a sickly sweet smell that almost makes her dizzy. "You are getting desperate. You know what must be done. You know there is only one thing that would make Our Lord lift a finger to bestow the Grail's blessings upon you."

Rin stalks around her like a predator appraising prey. Mixed in with the thick smell of perfume and oils on her body is the musk of sex and debauchery, which she wears proudly like a prized necklace. "Aye, and there is but one logical path for you. You know it to be true, oh King from a distant land." The seductress looks pointedly at her armor clasps, which makes her flush. She makes a shape with her hand, as if she were holding the handle of an invisible sword, then makes a lewd, up-and-down motion with it. "Please the King, or spend eternity as a guest in this Hall."

Sakura touches her chin, which she wrenches away from her in disgust. She then shakes off Rin's fingers, which had been fiddling at straps on her armor without her noticing. "Enough!"

The two women chuckle, their laughter not even sounding vulgar, like tavern whores, but refined, like a pair of noblewomen enjoying a private joke. "If ever you come to your senses," Rin says coyly, "Then call on us at our chambers."

"The Grail King shall no longer entertain you, no matter what you do," Sakura says, a little less playfully. "Do not even bother with meaningless gestures. The Grail King desires no other offering." She tosses her hair and winks at the other woman, and they interlink arms, whereupon they march down the the hall.

Artoria bites the inside of her cheek. She clenches her fist-the thought occurs to her that she really may not be able to leave. Getting here was a feat of magic and miracle; getting out, empty-handed, would be impossible without the Grail King's help. The Grail King's castle is far from the mortal realms, beyond even the secret pathways of the fae. She'd braved the journey, ignoring the wishes and protests of her knights and Merlin, all for a foolish dream of hers. And then her fool quest ended up proving her right-though the Grail King she sought was less than forthcoming with the miracle.

And now that she was so close... Could she really just waste this chance?

"We did not expect to see you so soon," Sakura says, with a smile.

"Come now, don't tease her, sister," Rin says, ushering the King of Knights inside their chambers. Already her nimble fingers have undid the first binds on her clothes. Artoria's eyes are glass, staring into nothing, her expression steeled against even the faintest emotion even as she begins to suffer their indignities. Her heart is shielded by unbreakable walls, and she will never falter.

()()()()

She stands again before You, proud and regal. Yet there is something different about her, aside from the obvious picture of her wearing a loose, long robe of midnight blue instead of her crude armor; and that her tight, strict bun has been loosed. Her eyes glare daggers at You, as a constant flush illuminates her cheeks, throwing her pale skin in sharp contrast.

"Presenting, the humble maiden Artoria," Your two nubile retainers exclaim, dancing around the cloaked woman like forest nymphs.

Even from this distance You can smell the various oils and perfumes they'd applied to her body, the necessary trappings like garnish on a cooked, luscious dish. It has made this impudent King just a bit more appealing. But-it is only a bit.

Seeing Your reaction, or lack thereof, Your two retainers draw close to Artoria and whisper something in her ear. Her head bows, and You can see her quiver, like a newborn animal. Then she nods, and with a saucy flourish Your two whores take both ends of her cloak and open it up, revealing the beauty that had been sealed within.

With arms spread, her gaze turned away, a tomato-red flush now tainting her face and neck, Artoria presents herself.

Her body is petite, as if she were still in the prime cusp of puberty, her supple skin curving over a slim frame. There is a cherubic perfection about her body, which radiates a solemn aura despite the shamefaced circumstance. A crimson sash hangs upon her bare shoulder, which drapes over her body and is a humble, though truthfully feeble preservation of her modesty in her near-nakedness. Small bumps indicate the presence of her bosom, and that along with her slender waist effectively deny the conclusion of her being just an effeminate man.

"Now... say it like we told you, our cute little king," Rin says.

The King bites her lip, though she faces You, determination and desperation equal writ on her beautiful face. "I-is it to your liking, my lord?"

You grunt. "Just a bit." You look down. Perhaps one of the reasons why Artoria's face looks livid is the fact that another person has been noshing on your manhood for the past hour and the trio has caught you at a bad time. The magus' head bobs up and down over Your cock, your crotch slathered liberally with her spit. You push her gently away, and Your cock leaves her lips with a big, fat smack that echoes through the chamber. A small string of spit and your old cum bridges the tip of your cock and hers for a moment, before you turn your manhood aside and lay it against her shoulder.

This is not the first time that this Greek sorceress has sought Your castle. The so-called Witch of Colchis has been here to beg your boon, like Artoria, many times before. Or rather, it is better to say that there have been many instances of "her" coming to Your castle, like images reflected on a gem's multifaceted surface. This has been the twentieth or so "Medea" who has bargained her way into your presence to receive the blessing of the Holy Grail.

"My lord," the Witch says uncertainly, her eyes glazed over by lust, as You circle around behind her. You lay Your thick, steamy cock against her shoulder, and slowly rub its side against her neck.

"We shall have you explain to Our guest of the truth behind the Grail." At that, the Witch smiles wickedly. She eyes the half-naked King haughtily, even as you slide your manhood just below her cheek.

"The truth has been lost to time, but it is certainly true that the Grail King-" she gasps, as you slap her cheek upon the mention of Your name. Artoria flinches, like she'd been the one slapped. "-Possesses the Holy Grail, the facilitator of miracles. And yet there is a misconception, a splendid misconception, which even I, and many other seekers, do not discover, until we meet the Grail King personally."

You push the Witch to the ground on her fours, whereupon you kneel down to mount her, drawing her waist to yourself, her crotch to your own. Her sopping cunt quivers in anticipation, even as her other lips continue to dissect the mystery for the poor, bewildered King. "The Grail is no physical cup, to be claimed. It is not even another type of object, to substitute as ahh... as symbol, for the... ohhh, for the... real thing... Gods!" You've claimed her in the midst of her speech, and have now buried Yourself deep inside the Witch. "The Grail's real nature... is the essence of the King. The... the seed, which is poured into the receptacle... any receptacle... the mud that transforms any mundane thing into a 'grail'."

"What in heavens' name does that mean?" Artoria demands, seemingly ignoring the loud, urgent slapping sounds that now ring throughout the chambers, as You piston in and out of the mewling Witch. The latter can no longer answer, lost in the heat of the moment, succumbing to the sweet pleasure of lovemaking that You've given, as Your well-oiled tool drives through her pleasure-spots as easily as a hawk sights prey, her squirming, slimy folds squirming around You, caressing you, milking your cock for what it could give.

And what could it give? To that, Rin gives the answer, sidling up to the stiffly standing Artoria. "Put bluntly, your womb 'becomes' a candidate for the Grail. And it is in receiving the King's Essence that it transforms into the Grail which you seek."

"And to achieve that," says Sakura, her eyes fixated at Your manhandling the most recent Witch with practiced ease, "The King must properly lay it within you."

"You see now, why we've done this, why it's important you wear this. This was the only way for the King to deem your worthy," Rin concludes, with a smug smile.

"We were truly helping you out, m'dear," Sakura says airily.

"B-but that is-" Artoria swallows. "Is that not just sex? Do you mean to say I must whore myself off, allow myself to be defiled, to, to satisfy this King? Th-that is not something-no, it is... I am not prepared for that. At all!"

There is a low sprinkling of laughter, a chuckle shared among the three other women, Medea included. "The King shall show you the way," Rin says.

"You only need surrender yourself to the wonderful sensations. I'm sure it'll come naturally to you. Like holding a sword," Sakura says. She points to the thick, wet thing plumbing the Witch's depths. "More specifically, that sword."

You hiss, Your mind suddenly afflicted with the most brutish urge of lying with the reluctant King. You grip Medea's waist harder, practically slamming Your cockhead as far inside her as You manage, as she squeals appreciatively like a pig-not that you'd ever bed one.

"Oh my, here it comes," Sakura observes.

"Yes! Yes..! Oh! Yes! ... Watch... this is how the Grail is made," Medea says, amidst her many frantic gasps.

"Pay attention, my dear," Rin says, as she and the other woman stare hungrily at the climax to come. "For humans, mating is the ultimate expression of love. Well, personally it is, but it is also the means of procreation. The male lays its seed within the female's womb, and from there, a miracle is born."

"Rutting," Sakura says, making sure to whisper into the King's ear, whose scandalized eyes cannot seem to look away from You and the Witch. She and her sister now alternate, seductively shooting the whispers straight into the beleaguered King's brain.

"Impregnating."

"Pregnancy."

"Birth."

"Suckling the newborn babe."

"And then the cycle repeats..."

Artoria swallows, even as Your "mud" now gathers to strike into Medea.

"The Grail subsumes the miracle of conception-but the Concept remains," Rin says, smiling impishly. "In place of the Womb, the Grail. In place of the Child, a Miracle of your choosing."

"AaaaAaaaAaah!" The Witch wails, as You seize her hands and pull her arms to Yourself, Your majestic tool giving the Witch what she had wanted from the start; Your penis shooting wads and strings of your cum deep within her, penetrating her womb and settling there, the mud transforming it into the Grail which she had sought. And yet perhaps the Witch's body instinctively sees it still as mating, as she wails like a bitch being rightly bred, as its strong, powerful partner deposits the roots of their offspring into the depths of her womb.

As You remain there, Your dick still pumping the Witch, Your eyes lock onto Artoria's, pointedly. This is how it is, such are the unspoken words. This is how you will get your Wish. Fucked like a whore, bred like a mare, seeded as a woman ought to be. There is understanding there, from Artoria, whose eyes seem to disbelieve but cannot deny the truth of what is supposed to happen. Her body trembles visibly, her slender, almost child-like knees buckling together as hot puffs of air escape her rapidly gasping mouth. Your two retainers grin at each other, then at you-it is not an orgasm, of course, but it is something quite equal: bare-faced arousal, from the self-proclaimed King of Britain.

All she can think about, in this instant, is the large, turgid, veined thing You pull out of the Witch, hot and moist and dripping with the combined juices of Yourself and Medea, standing tall and ready to conquer another hole.

You leave the Witch behind, forgetting her like a dirty old rag You'd just used to clean your pipe. The compact is done, she's gotten what she wanted, and now You're moving on to other things. Better things. You advance, sauntering over to Artoria, whose expression is torn between revulsion and curiosity, her eyes never leaving the dreadful weapon You bare so openly.

"Oh, Master, it smells so goood...!" Sakura exclaims cheerfully while looking at your meat, as if it were a freshly baked delicacy.

"Now, Artoria," Rin proclaims with a wide grin, "Do you or do you not want the Grail?"

You reach out and tap Artoria's shoulder, who obediently sinks to her knees with an audible, whiny grunt. She looks up at You with equal parts fear and defiance, as You lay Your filthy, throbbing tool on top of her head. She shudders at the feel of Your cock on her body. It is an amusing sight-to see the King laid low, and wearing a most suitable crown for one of her beauty. A crown most suited to give her what she wishes, as You remind her.

For a moment, Artoria's face twists, as if she were ready to throw You off in disgust. She still has her irksome pride, her little human pitfalls. All of it You see flash on her face, before her expression settles; and she closes her eyes, shifts her face up, and then plants her lips hesitantly on the underside of Your cock.

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous commission, thanks. Extra words on me, etc.
> 
> This is an "Open Story". An Open Story is a new concept, graciously suggested by the commissioner, in which other readers may commission a continuation in a particular story at a markedly reduced price. The caveat is that I will be the one to map out the structure of a chapter, unlike the usual; while the commissioner will only provide prompts such as a particular pairing. Also, only those particular stories labeled "Open" in the description can be done in this way. If you'd like to know more about it, then feel free to message me. I have also updated my commission rules accordingly.
> 
> If you'd like a story commissioned, please contact me on "The Ruff Pusher" at fanfiction.net, or on my tumblr, theruffpusherdottumblrdotcom.


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